The No Life King
by Plasticz
Summary: Charlye has a hard time accepting this twisted relationship. 'Is this how he shows his love' she wonders. Mature for continuous violence and later chapters. OCxAlucard/OC New Chapters! Chapter 6 posted:
1. Charlye

**The No Life King**

I sat there. I stared at the rusty dusty bolted door in front of me. It was dark in my basement; my eyes refused to adjust. So I was thinking that I should put more lights down here. However, I don't think he would like that. 'He' said he would wake up today: October 31st, 2013. It's my birthday. It doesn't seem like he's up, so I guess I should wait till the night when he's at his best.

So, here I am, staring at this big old door in my really dark and really cold basement. There is a spider's web entwined around the knob. Maybe I should ask the spider if he knows if he's up yet. Or maybe…

"Charlye!" My Aunt's abrupt call interrupted my thoughts and I stood to face her scowling face poking through the entrance.

"What?" I said answered flatly as I walked past her.

"You know you shouldn't be –"she began in a greasy tone.

"Please, it's none of your business."

"Your father…"

"…Doesn't need to know." But of course he knew. He knew everything. I marched out of there before the conversation could go any further. I'd check on _him_ later.

Being outside felt nice; I felt the chilling wind tickle my cheeks and then the dry sunlight would warm them again. When I walked there was crunching at my feet and I paused to look at the sea of crispy leaves at my sneakers. I enjoyed the moment for a few seconds until –

"Naucht, naucht[1]!" Cidny seemed to appear from nowhere as she flailed her arms everywhere and rambled in her crazy Irish jingle. I waited for her to stop. She looked at me with big brown eyes and crazy red curls flying in the wind.

"English or Italian, Cidny. Pick one and speak it." I said holding up two fingers and wiggling them. She curled my middle finger; the one that represented English.

"Yes! Well, your sister was caught, did you hear? Did you? Huh? Huh?"

"Enlighten me." I folded my arms across my chest as I rolled my eyes. The person she's talking about is not my sister. She's Asher, my Aunt's daughter. Asher makes a habit of doing whatever she wants. Just the other day, she and some other delinquents set the bushes in front the fire station on fire; and that's not even the worst of it. But honestly, I blame the parent.

"Katy walked in on her and the P.E. teacher, Mr. Roy, locking lips and all! Bareback too! And in the storeroom closet!"

Great.

"She's in trouble now." She put a thoughtful finger to her chin, "what do you think your Aunt's going to do?"

"She's not my sister." I mumbled as I walked away. Since she sensed there was something wrong with my mood Cidny did not bother to follow me. I hope I didn't offend her, she is a good friend.

As for myself… I had no idea where I was going. I let my mind wander as far as my feet would take me.

* * *

[1] [Irish]: News, news


	2. Unknown ID

"Please stop." Asher pushed her current boy toy's hand away. "Tony, I'm not in the mood." She moved to sit down on the porch. It's a nice suburban street, there are many like it in Milan, Italy. There are only leaves crunching around in the October breeze.

"Come now, Asher, I have needs." He said placing on the small of her back. Asher was a rather attractive girl. She had long blonde, trussing hair that fell just before her shoulder. On top that, her eyes were a deep blue and rimmed with long eye lashes followed by a long slender nose and full lips. She was also a perfect hourglass shape; with a full chest and all.

"You _need_ to back off." She retorted as she swirled her cigar in the air. Tony raised a thick brow,

"If you want forgiveness for that little inning you had with Roy –"

"That was a stupid rumor, you know it. Do not threaten me Tony, I'll rip your…" Tony silenced her with a rough kiss.

"Go home, Asher." Although he didn't mind her staying at his residence. She served a fair purpose.

"I'm not going home." He smiled. "Today is that freak's birthday. She might sprout some fangs or something. I don't want to be around her when she does." She wasn't necessarily talking about Charlye.

"Sounds to me like you're jealous of her." Tony teased, tugging lightly on a strand of her golden hair.

"You'd be upset too if that little freak was keeping a demon spawn in your basement…"

_A pail hand trailed its fingers across her jaw line. The touch was surprisingly warm. When I opened my eyes I saw the shadowy outline of a face, and behind that face I saw leaves. The sun is shining and we are under a tree. Dark hair that isn't my own is scattered over my shoulder. He is looking down at me with those ravenous crimson eyes, and is grinning at me with a mouth full of sharp teeth and fangs. _

_A familiar fear rose inside of me and the sky was suddenly black. The tree's leaves wrinkled and fell around me. "Happy Birthday, Charlye." His dark velvety voice told me, raising every hunger inside me. So sugary and deliciously rich; he wanted me to feel this way. _

"_Huh?" I just wanted to hear him speak once more. This time, he was closer. I felt his lips graze my ear. Every hair on my neck stood on end. _

"_I said, Happy Birthday,__ iubirea mea**[0]**__" The words melted, and suddenly it felt like someone was messing with them because his voice twisted into a soprano-like squeal. _

Cidny_…_

"Hello, hello! Anyone in there?" she looked at me sideways. I was rapidly blinking myself back to reality. "Charlye, isn't it your birth date today?" my what? I gave her my dumbfounded expression so she repeated herself. "Happy Birth date, Charlye!" she bounced and flung her harms up.

Oh. I gave her my brightest smile. "It's happy birth_day_ Cidny. And thanks." She pondered that for a while and continued her rambling. I listened to her happily as we wondered the halls of my father's villa.

_[5:30pm]_

It wasn't until I saw kids running around in their Spiderman, vampire, and even pimp costumes did I realize it was Halloween. I also realized that I've been wondering the streets all day long thinking about 'him', and how I am to face him. Has it really been six years?

"_How long will I have to wait?" Charlye demanded, placing her hands on his chest and clutching the fabric there. "You have forever." She said, "Will you forget me?"_

"_I would not let you go so easily. However, you are young and there are things you must understand. And I must sleep." Dalvé explained patiently. _

"_Yes Dalvé, but for how long?" His wise eyes saw the pain in hers as he drew closer. _

"_It swells my cold heart to know that you've grown so fond of me Charlye." He took her into a warm embrace. He had always been able to see her thought clearly but here in his ancient arms, he was able to feel the gush of emotions she emitted, and it hit him hard. He began to fill her mind with happy thoughts and nostalgic memory. "Charlye, don't make this difficult…"he said in a warning tone based in a Romanian accent. They slowly pulled away from each other. "The 31__st__ of October." He told her. _

"_Ten months?" he face lit up, it was less than she expected. _

"_Six years." he corrected, raveling in her quickly saddening mood. _

"_2013… That's so far away."The tears began to well up again. _

"_Se agita, nu **[1]**__Charlye. I will come to you in your dreams. Every night." Charlye baked at the thought, it pleased Dalvé as well. _

"_And my daydreams?" she asked, hopeful. Dalvé chuckled, s sound that made Charlye's stomach flutter. _

"_Go rest, the day has been long. Enjoy the New Year. And remember, this door is not to be open." As he spoke, he laid himself into his coffin and Charlye knelt beside it. _

"_Sleep well," she said lovingly. Dalvé then raised up and planted a kiss on her forehead, and then one to her lips, "my King." She finished her sentence whispering, as if his kiss stole her voice away. _

"_Asteapta-ma**[2]**__, and be safe." The heavy stone lid slid slowly over the casket until he was completely covered. _

_As she lay there in the darkness with a heavy head and sandy eyes. When the clock strikes twelve the echoes of far away screaming, popping and merriment bounced softly against the stone walls, softly whispering to her. In that moment, the darkness had never seemed so…bright. _

_[7:30pm]_

"Cut the crap." His heavy fist hit he wooden desk in a loud thud. Two fairly large guards entered the office,

"Is everything alright, Herr?"

"Everything is fine. Sie verlassen kann[3]."The words were forced, he disliked speaking out of his native tongue.

"Verstanden._**[4]**_" The two guards bowed respectfully and left, leaving the Roman Schulleiter and his advisor. They continued.

"What I tell you is true." His advisor spoke.

"So I don't have any then." He raised his hand to his chin and rubbed the stubble there; it's been a hard week. "And my son, in Milan?"

"He is in danger as well. They will stop at nothing to get to him. Information has spilled, Herr Catargiu; it's either we are being too loud, or there is a traitor lurking in the walls of the organization." He warned him.

"They know of the No Life King." He stated.

"They know that your son is involved." His advisor added, "He was a prime target before because of the fact that he is the heir to this position. Now that he is involved…"

"See to it that my jet is ready, I must be the first flight back to Italy. I want a team on this case. They do not make any moves until I say." He paused, "And get my son on the phone. I must speak to her." His advisor turned to look at him,

"Him." He said as he began to dial the number. Catargiu looked at him, puzzled by his response. "You said "her"".

"Ah, my apologies if I may be off on my words. It is only the stress working in.

"Înţeleasă.[5]" His advisor said nodding; hoping to maybe put him at ease with his Romanian response. He raised the phone to his ear.

Static. Dialer tone. Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.

[Unknown ID]

"Ciao" Charlye put down the hard-candy she was planning to eat. Cidny's head tilted slightly when Charlye answered her cell with an unusual tenor tone. They sat across from each other, the marble chess table covered in candy wrappers. They had just been enjoying the holiday.

"Is this Charlye?" the voice asked with a funny German twist. Obviously fake…

"Speaking." She replied; nice and short. There is a brief pause before some spoke again,

"Charlye." This voice lacked a German accent.

"…Father." Cidny suddenly upped from her chair and found herself pressing an ear to the other side of Charlye's cell.

"I'm coming home."

"Any special occasion?" Charlye spoke with an icy attitude.

"Something extremely important." He was cut off by Charlye's slightly irritated chuckle. Cidny swallowed.

"Didn't expect anything less."

"Charlye, do not speak to me in that tone. I am your father." He reminded her. She could just feel a finger being waved in her face. "You should be grateful that I –"

"Can't wait to see you too, Tată[6]." End call.

Static.

"Naiba[7]!" He slammed the phone into the nearest wall. And Charlye just stared blankly at hers.

"I should be more grateful." She whispered. Cidny gave her a worried look; just when she had cheered her up too…

"Do not worry mo Naiba[8]! My candy and I shall console you!"

"Sì? You can just do that by telling me what an Irish country girl is doing in Italy?" Charlye raised her arms to her and Cidny rolled her eyes. They then doubled over in guffaws of laughter. Once again, Charlye tried hard to let go of her anxiety.

* * *

[0] My love

[1] Fret not

[2] Wait for me

[3] [German]: You may leave

__[4][German]: Understood

[5] Understood

[6] Father

[7] Dammit

[8] [Irish]: my friend


	3. Darts or Bullets

_I'm all alone now, and I hear him calling my name softly. _

'_Charlye. Charlye Catargiu. Lay your raven head upon my chest and close your forest eyes. Rest, and be still. You may not refuse me.' I don't want to. _

_ He speaks to me in his Romanian tongue; that ancient language so brilliantly floating from his lips. _

'_You are not alone anymore.' He tells me. _

The darkness of night now hung over the villa. The courtyard is quiet. There is a whisper of a breeze. Charlye opens her eyes and is not alone. There are two men, dressed in long black robes, each standing at her sides. Reality snaps back to Charlye as she gets a grip on her situation. One of the men takes a closer step and places a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll catch a cold if you sleep out here, bambino." His voice was rugged, but kind and gentle. The other man jumped to the point,

"You might know what we are looking for." He said, "A boy; about your age." Charlye quickly stood up and took three steps back.

"There is no boy here." She replied flatly, her voice cracking. 'Way to go' she thought.

The men glanced at each other and the kinder one gave a small nod.

"You will come with us." He said, taking her arm and gripping it. Charlye ripped free of his grasp and dashed through the tall pillars that lined the courtyard. She ran down the hall behind them and the men quickly followed. Charlye was already to the dining hall when she heard a loud snap. Panic whirled through as her hears rang once more as the noises were closer this time.

'They're shooting at me?!' she spun her head around to see two dart-like objects jutting from the side of the pillar she was crouched behind. They were filled with an orange liquid that seemed to sizzle. 'Phone, phone…" she fumbled around for her cell and dialed an emergency number with shaking fingers.

There was another loud crack and Charlye squeaked as she watched her cell phone fall to the ground in pieces.

Bullets. She preferred the darts from earlier.

In one quick movement Charlye stuck her hand out from behind the safety of the wall to grab one of the darts that was shot at her earlier. And then she ran; there was a bullet for every step she took. Pieces of wood and marble scrapped at her skin as the bullets gnashed away at furniture. At the last second, a bullet had scrapped the side of her calve muscle just as she bolted into the chef's kitchen.

"Buon Dio1! Charlye! What's all the noise?" Vinnie, the head chef, watched as Charlye closed the steel doors and locked them. The kitchen was full of clanking, sizzling, pinging and panging; no wonder they couldn't hear anything.

"We have to go through those back doors. Quickly." Charlye fought hard to keep her cool as she rolled up the bloody right pant leg of her black sweats.

"My child, you've been shot!" Vinnie yelled a little too dramatically. The clanking and panging stopped and there was only the sound of sizzling as all five of his assistants turned their heads from what they were doing.

"I'm fine, really! You need to get out, all of you!" she ushered them to the back door leading to the lounge. Vinnie wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran a hand through is jet black hair, discarding the cap he wore.

"Tell us what is going on, Charlye. Where is your Aunt?" His wrinkles curled themselves into a worried expression as he attempted to console her.

"No time." She pushed Vinnie through the door along with two of his assistants. The last three were about to exit when the steel doors flung open and off their hinges.

"Fermare!" The larger man was the first one she saw. Charlye could now clearly see his sharp inhuman features as he snarled.

"Move!" Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Charlye shoved the last man through the door and ducked behind a counter just before the shots were fired. She clutched the dart in her palm, making sure it was facing the correct way before she struck.

The smaller attacker heard as Charlye pushed a fallen pot sending it sliding across the tiled floor. Eager to get a shot he fired his last clip at the rouge pot.

"Dam…" he cursed as he began to reload his pistol.

Just then, Charlye hoped on top the counter and jumped from one to the next as she closed the distance between her and her attacker. Her battle cry echoed off the kitchen walls as she took one last shooting leap towards him, dart in hand.

"Oof!" the air was knocked from his lungs as Charlye pounced, sending them both flying to the ground. She brought her arms up and then down, plunging the dart into his chest and the mysterious orange liquid bubbled down.

Charlye watched in horror as she watched the blood vessels in his eyes pop and the man began to shake uncontrollably. She noticed that his teeth began to slip off the gums in his mouth and he swallowed them; however, a few seconds later they came back up in a huge bubble of blood and what looked like his internal organs.

Charlye had just decided that she preferred bullets. She quickly got up from his deteriorating body. She felt a hand gripping her neck with a painfully tight hold. Charlye stumbled backwards as the bigger man pulled her straight. His fingers dug into her skin,

"You've caused us quite a lot of trouble." He spoke calmly and gently like before only this time Charlye was completely horrified.

"Who…are…you…?" she choked the words out while clawing viciously at his gloved hands. Her eye sight got all fuzzy; as she squinted her tears rolled down her slightly purple skin. He casually turned her to face him and pinned her roughly to a stove top, thankfully, all the burners were off. The man pressed his thumbs into her neck, crushing her trachea and watching the veins strain against her skin; gingerly choking the life out of her. He gave a freakish grin and sneered,

"Die…you Catargiu _trash._" The words came out struggled as he put all his strength into tightening his grip. Charlye slowly began to slip into the darkness when she heard a blood curdling scream.

Her face felt strangely wet…'Tears' she thought. The hold on her neck began to slacken. Charlye coughed and choked as the air returned to her tortured lungs as she slumped off the stove and onto the floor. The man was still screaming and stumbling backwards. She briefly wondered why as she took a sleeve to wipe her tears away from her still colorless cheeks. Her stomach began to churn uneasily when she looked down at her sleeve and saw that she was covered in blood.

Then slowly she raised her eyes to the symphony of blood and gore, and the sight of a man being visibly torn apart…into pieces. Charlye realized that she sat in a pool of blood and something by her knee caught her eye: the disembodied arm of the man, its fingers still twitching. Although she had been through a lot in the past, her brain did not allow her to react to the scene so her body did.

Charlye fainted and someone was there to catch her when she fell back. Vinnie turned her head away, "You shouldn't have seen this…" his voice filled with sympathy. There was an angry shout and then the sound of crunching bones. ….and then finally the sound of her own breathing.

1 Good God


	4. Reunion

The sun shone bright though the lilac curtains in Charlye room creating a soft look to the capacious room. She stirred, beginning to open her eyes to the new morning…well, afternoon. Charlye began to recall last night's horrific events. She was thankful to be alive.

"Aw man…" she groaned to herself when she got up and stumbled over to the vanity. She wore a light, white nightdress that just above her knees and her hair was neatly combed. Slightly confused, she touched the red marks on her and then walked out to her balcony window surveying the garden below. Everything seemed normal.

Charlye trudged back to her bed and jumped into it. Her muscles screamed in protest and she moaned face first into the pillow. And then out of the blue, there was a low chuckle. Charlye jolted onto her elbows and turned her head toward the sound.

There he was in all his masculinity wearing a crisp white collared shirt and black dress pants. Long, silky black hair and over grown bangs fell over his smoldering crimson eyes. His lips formed a gentle smile; his skin held an unusual amount of color. Lying next to her, he looked like a painting.

Charlye blinked a couple of times trying to figure out whether he was real or not.

"Dalvé?" she whispered in question. He only smiled and snickered at her reaction and thoughts,

"Did you expect someone else?" the sound of his voice brought joy to her. So much joy, that she pounced on top of him with a giant hug. Dalve responded by wrapping his arms around her firmly.

"I've missed you so much." Her words were muffled into his chest.

"I've missed you as well. Another day, and I would have lost my sanity." He pressed his nose to the top of her head and inhaled her scent. He then raised her head so they could see eye to eye. It was only then that Charlye realized that she was in a strange position. Her legs were planted on either side of his waist and certain places were pressing a little too intimately. Charlye blushed and shifted uneasily.

"Relaxaţi-vă.1" He said. "You need not be tense around me." He paused, "Although, that was a hell-of-a scene last night. I was surprised when I woke up to it." He lied as he ran his finger through her thick black hair. Charlye eyes darted away as she remembered the screaming man.

"You saved me." She said. Dalvé only smiled as he sat up and brought her legs over his thighs, cradling her. He absently tugged at the lace of her nightdress with a thoughtful expression,

"I did." His tone was suddenly strict, "you were very reckless."

"I had no choice." She had to defend herself. "Is Vinnie okay?" Dalvé nodded now staring at her with soft eyes.

"You've grown, yet your resolve hasn't changed. You are still the kind-hearted, stubborn Charlye." He placed a hand on her knee as he studies her fair features. Her long black hair, creamy skin and smearing, deep green eyes and long black lashes. Charlye's cheeks blushed a soft pink at his blunt appraisal; she felt strange in his presents. Dalvé just seemed so much different to her. "When you were younger, you were all flat and…stick-like. I must say, you filled out quite nicely." He gave her a devilish smile. Charlye's eyebrows crunched together when Dalvé squeezed her tighter to him, deliberately crushing her plump chest into his muscular one. She was mildly offended.

"Have you no shame?" she felt ashamed to be aroused by this.

"You cannot blame me for speaking the truth." He smirked to himself. Charlye decided to jump the subject before he could go any further,

"Who were those people who tried to kill me? Do you know?" Dalvé answered almost immediately.

"They are the men who claim themselves as "Men of God".

"Section 13…" Charlye was surprised, "what does the Vatican want with me? I know I'm the air to their most hated organization but… Why try to kill me?"

"I don't think it's only that. The Pope might just be unaware. There are people working under the table." He said, "Remember, they are after a boy named Charlye; it was just chance that they bumped into you: they must have had to kill all witnesses because two guards died at the front entrance. They suppose that you know about me as well."

"Enough about this, I wanted to have a happy reunion with you, Charlye." He said.

Charlye was about to comment when Dalvé lifted her off his lap and set her onto her back. He then lay on his side with an elbow placed to support himself. Charlye gasped when he smashed his lips against hers and stole her breath away. "However, It makes me upset that those bastards marched up in here and shot at you. It makes me more infuriated that that piece of _shit_ had the nerve to touch you and insult your name." When Dalvé gets angry, it's a terrifying thing. Charlye's voice was caught in her throat. "Let me erase his touch from your skin." He said as he placed his hand below Charlye's left breast. She was too mortified to do anything so she just stared. The bold Dalvé continued his attack and ran an open palm over her breast, gripping it roughly.

Charlye was overwhelmed by this, "Wait a minute!" she yelled in protest as she pulled his hand away. Dalvé made an impatient grunt as he grabbed her wrist and pinned it down. In his logic; it was not acceptable for her to resist him, not after all this time. Charlye told herself that she wasn't afraid. She pushed with all her might at his hold on her wrist but she had forgot how incredibly strong he was. He kissed her again, this time, Charlye attacked, leaving him with a bloody lip. Dalvé laughed hysterically as he removed himself from Charlye. She sat up as well, clearly furious with him,

"That isn't funny." He continued to laugh, "So much for our happy reunion." Charlye mumbled angrily. Dalvé allowed himself to be hit with the cushion she threw and seized his guffaws as he watched her stomp off towards her walk-in closet on the other side of the room,

"Come now, Charlye. I was only testing your limits." He watched as she angrily threw open the closet door, "Frankly, I would have been upset if you didn't resist me."

Charlye scrolled through some of the outfits in on the rack. She chose a black dress with sleeves and donned it. She felt satisfied when she looked in the mirror, the dresses turtle neck covered her own; perfect. She then decided to bless him with a snide remark, "You should have stayed asleep for another five years. Or maybe a decade." Dalvé got up and walked over to the cream colored couch that was adjacent to the bed.

"This is the thanks I get for saving your life?" He said playfully. When he spoke again, Charlye felt his breath by her ear, "Your feisty attitude excites me, Charlye." She gasped when he pulled up the dress zipper. It had been a while since she had experienced his ghost like appearances…she would have to get use to it again. Charlye turned to face him, when he met his eyes her heart skipped. Dalvé's eyes were so tender and filled with love, she blushed at the sight.

"Don't give me that look." She said looking away, but Dalvé only turned her to face him. She noticed that his bleeding lip wound was no longer visible. Charlye pushed a bang away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. "You need a haircut." She said, dazed and thinking about how beautiful the monster standing before her is.

"I prefer handsome." He said replying to her thoughts with a smile, "And I shall see it done." He answered to her comment.

"No, I'll do it for you." She was pretty handy with scissors. Dalvé smiled,

"I would like that." He suddenly began to melt into the darkness of the closet.

"Where are you going?" Charlye stretched her hand towards the open space where Dalvé once stood.

"You are about to receive company." She heard his voice echo from the shadows. Charlye sighed and slipped on black flats, he could have at least told her who it was.

"My Lady, the Count wishes to see you." The maid had opened the door just after knocking.

"My father is here?" she said putting in silvery strings of diamond as earrings as she walked towards her maid.

"He arrived just this morning." She said, and then she put a hand to her chin thoughtfully, "The dress is very nice, however, you should wear some heals. You know how your father is." Charlye frowned when she realized the maid was right. She turned to her closet and came out with tall yet simple black heals.

"Here we go…" she mumbled with false enthusiasm as the maid led her down the halls. The maid giggled at her and over her giggles she heard Dalvé's seductive chuckle,

"Mind your tongue around him, my sweet." He reminded and warned her.

"Go to bed, Dalvé." She retorted. His laughter echoed evanescently through the halls.

1 Relax


	5. Dalton

Count Catargiu stood in the lounge area, leaning on an expensive looking chair. He was the portrait of the words 'relaxed' and 'calm'. It felt good to be home, after all. So relaxed, he hardly noticed when Charlye entered the room.

She was baffled to see the lounge in a sparkling new condition. This was the very same lounge in which her battle took place and yet here everything was as if yesterday never happened. Charlye continued to make her way through the rows of expensive décor and furniture until she stood six feet away from her father. After a while, the Count decided to acknowledge his daughter.

When he gazed upon her his heart ached. Her black dress hugged her thin waist and then dropped into a flowing puff stopping mid-thigh on her long muscular legs. She also wore suede black ankle boots with tall heals to finish her slender look. When he didn't speak, Charlye took a hand to swipe her long tressing locks over her shoulder, occupying her fingers by twirling her ends.

"You look stunning." He held a hand out to her and Charlye took it while respectfully lowering her head. The Count ran his thumb over her docile knuckles. Charlye's expression did not waver; her face was continuously a blank sheet even when she spoke,

"Thank you, father." Her father walked to a nearby sofa with Charlye and sat down with her. The air felt awkward and Charlye's eyes darted back and forth not knowing what to look at. She could tell that her father was trying hard to make the situation less tense,

"How are you feeling?" he asked as a placed a hand on her right shoulder. Charlye turned her head to stare at it. "You look well." He continued while ignoring her passive expression.

"You don't…" Charlye replied quicker than expected. "…I mean, you look tired." She watched his eyebrows crumple together. The bags under his watery eyes and the wrinkles from scowling were all signs that her father was indeed troubled. The count was grateful for her response,

"These are hard times, fata mea1." He said in his friendly Romanian tongue. It felt good to use it. It pained Charlye to see her father drowning in all his stress. In an attempt to comfort him, she pats his lap and her once hard expression grew soft. The Count smiled lovingly at his daughter remembering once again that she was capable of compassion. He also remembered…

"Oh yes!" he said snapping a finger, "There is someone who is here to see you, Charlye."

Her father motioned to the door keeper and then a man stepped into the room. He wore a plaid blue and black sweater-vest and a blue tie tucked neatly below a crisp white collar. As he walked towards them his leather-skin shoes clucked lightly against the marble floor. Not only did his attire look expensive but his features were also that of gods'. He was in his late twenties. His curling jet black hair was cut and combed neatly and perfectly with little strands of curls falling perfectly over his forehead. Sharp, smoldering, deep blue and icy were his eyes. He had perfectly rounded cheek bones and a perfectly straight nose followed by a set of full masculine lips that were curved into a devious smile and a strong jaw.

When his icy-hot gaze met Charlye's scorching glare the air grew very thick.

"Well, well, well; if it isn't little Charlye. And she's all grown up." He said as he approached her and took her hand, "And looking beautiful, may I add." Charlye tensed when he used the hand he held to pull her into a firm embrace and an additional peck on the cheek.

Dalton Sheferio is the son of a very powerful man. His father owns two of the most exclusive companies in Rome, and Dalton is the heir to the empire. Charlye's father sees him as an excellent candidate to wed her, however Charlye has other plans. Of course, he's rich and handsome but, like the rest of them, he's a monster in disguise.

"Charlye, at least greet the man." Catargiu frowned and pushed Charlye so she would stand. Charlye scowled,

"Oh Dalton, it's been so very long." Charlye said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. After finishing her sentence, she gave him a formidable scowl. Dalton simply ignored it and pressed on,

"I call almost every day. For a while, I thought you were ill, or even dead; so I had to some see you. It just so happens that I met your father along the way." Dalton smiled sweetly; it was enough to make her gag. The room was quiet for a split second as Catargiu studied Charlye's sour expression,

"And the reason for not replying to the man's calls?" The Count asked, clearly upset. _'"The man?" I see no man here; only a dog.' _Charlye thought to herself.

"Scuze, I must have been busy with my studies." She lied. The Count shrugged and brushed off the matter as he stood to join them.

"Aw well, I'll leave you two to catch up on things." Charlye watched and glared at his back as he happily skipped out of the lounge; at least, it _looked_ to her like he was skipping. There was a heavy awkward silence until Dalton spoke,

"Let me guess, you're ignoring me because of the last time?" He asked innocently. Charlye did not look at him; she just stood figuring out a way to get as far away as possible from him. She felt him move closer, "Maybe this time your little _pet_ won't interfere? Or maybe, you'll learn to love it." Charlye trembled briefly at Dalton's last words; remembering the hard time he gave her the last time they were left alone. She heard her pulse beginning to speed up as she felt his warmth on her back.

"I'm not afraid of you, Dalton. And it's obvious that I don't like you." Charlye began to move away but Dalton gripped her arm and yanked her back against him with so much force that Charlye exhaled a soft whimper.

"Don't you dare walk away from me." Dalton snarled the words into Charlye's hair. She struggled to break free from his iron grip but was unsuccessful,

"Coborâţi2" Charlye turned her head and growled, "Sau altceva3…" she threatened. Dalton began to laugh,

"'Or else' what? You'll hit me?" As soon as he finished his sentence Charlye lifted her heal and smashed down on his toe as hard as she could. However, Dalton quickly ate the crushing blow to his foot and began laughing again. Charlye then felt herself being thrown roughly into the sofa and then she felt Dalton's weight over her.

His expression was a playful one as he used one finger to pull Charlye's turtle-neck down, revealing her bruises. "Mea, mea4, what have we here?" he smirked, "Tu5 bad girl, what trouble have you been getting yourself into?" he whispered into her ear and passed a wet tongue across the bruises on her neck. The frustrated and scared Charlye grew furious and with a grunt she pushed him with all her strength sending him flying to the other end of the sofa. Dalton's brows arched as he was surprised by this, however he smiled to the challenge.

"Dalton Sheferio, I've had _enough_ of you!" Charlye stood up and arranged herself. He had always pestered her but lately he was at the peak of his purpose. Constantly calling and leaving letters, dresses, jewelry, and accessories, or even sending Photoshopped pictures of them together and adult comic books that featured her. It all made her sick to her stomach, "Touch me again _prost_6 and I'll _kill_ you!" the fire in Charlye's eyes and the seriousness in her tone made Dalton prickle in excitement.

"Cum drăguţ7, you're threatening me." In Charlye's rage she couldn't help realizing how deep and husky his voice had gotten since the last time they spoke. She also noticed how toned his muscles were beneath his vest and how much he…filled out. Charlye mentally cursed herself for being such a sucker. Dalton smiled at the road her eyes traveled on. "Do you see something you like, dragoste8?" His accent reminded her of Dalvé's rich and enchanting one.

Her sweaty hands clenched into fists at the thought. Charlye was so flustered that she hadn't realized how close Dalton had gotten. His probing hand now caressed the soft skin of Charlye's upper thigh. He gave her a lazy smile, "Have you know realized what you've been missing out on, Charlye?" he spoke in a seductive tone as he gazed up at her.

Charlye took a deep breath in and smiled down to him while placing her hands on his shoulders. She began to knead them for a couple of luxurious seconds and felt his broad, strong blades relax under her gentle touch.

"Oh Dalton, you are so…" she began dreamily, and then, in a swift movement Charlye brought her left knee up to Dalton's face and in the same second she pushed his head down with both hands, "full of shit." Her knee collided with great force into Dalton's face; there was a sharp snapping crunch-like sound and then a muffled groan.

She was sure that the impact would knock him out cold however he stood up to face her with blazing anger in his icy eyes. "Oops." Charlye said as she took a few steps back.

"Tu putin căţea9!" Dalton snarled his hand over his now bloody and crooked nose. He was no longer charming now that his temper was suddenly lost and he grabbed the petite shoulders of the startled girl in front of him.

Just then, a young girl in a Victorian maid dress entered the lounge. Both Dalton and Charlye stopped to look at her. The young maid's head was lowered as she shifted her feet timidly, Charlye was thankful for the interruption,

"Per…perdonatemi10." She said, "The Count wishes for you to join him for tea." The girl explained. Dalton watched her and then Charlye. His expression was a hard angry plate as he pondered the situation. With an aggravated growl he gave Charlye's shoulders one last squeeze before tossing her to the side. Charlye stumbled and fell to her side and the young maid stared in shock at his actions. Before he passed her at the door Dalton used the apron of her dress to clean his bloody nose and snap it back into place; the girl flinched at the sound.

When Dalton was out of sight the maid rushed to Charlye's side. "Are you okay, Perdere?" her voice was somehow soothing to Charlye.

"I'm fine." She helped Charlye up and proceeded to fix her dress. "And just call me Charlye." Charlye figured that she was newly hired.

"Really?" her expression was priceless as she immediately perked up. Charlye giggled and placed a hand on her shoulder,

"Sì." Charlye smiled and walked wither to the door, "and I will call you?"

"Mellissa." Mellissa clapped her hands together in joy.

"Very well," Charlye smiled, "Mellissa, I want you to avoid Signore Sheferio at all costs. Capito11?"

"Inteso12." She gave Charlye a thumbs-up and an attentive nod.

In her mind, Charlye intensely regretted telling Dalvé to sleep.

1 My girl

2 Get off

3 Or else

4 My, my

5 You

6 Fool

7 How cute

8 love

9 You little bitch

10 [Italian]: pardon/forgive

11 [Italian]:Understand

12 [Italian]:Understood


	6. He Wants Charlye

There was a loud bang when Mellissa's back hit the china set on the shelf, and fell to the floor. The room was filled with her gasps, heavy breaths and sobs,

"Why are you doing this?" the tears burned the bruises and open scratches on her cheeks, "Please…" she pleaded as she clutched on to the last scraps of clothing she wore. Her neat hair bun was undone and in a frizzled dismay and her mascara ran down with her tears. Dalton advanced closer and with every step he took she flinched. He tossed away the torso of her dress that he had ripped from her earlier. Grabbing a handful of her bronze hair, he snickered

"I see that you've become attached to Charlye and she has grown fond of you." He explained, "Maybe I could use you as…you know: bait." He pulled her up, practically yanking the hair from her roots. Mellissa cried out in pain and whimpered. "The young Mistress has been refusing me lately and needs some…persuasion. She _needs_ to be taught a lesson." Mellissa realized where this was going. A small fire grew in her heart and with every heaving breath she began to loathe Charlye. Never in her life would she have thought that she had to go through all this pain,

"But…But this has nothing to do with m –"

"I don't care. I just want Charlye to realize that she has no choice." 'He wants Charlye. Then why not take Charlye? Why me?' Mellissa's thoughts were angry screams. Dalton gripped her face in his hand and pressed his fingers hard into her wet and bruised cheeks. She tasted the bitter hatred on her tongue along with a hint of blood. Her attacker chuckled at her twisted expression and moved to pin her to the carpeted floor. Mellissa screamed and pleaded with the raged Dalton in his heat as he ravaged her, stripping her off her remaining clothes until she lay naked and broken before him. He quickly rid himself of his shirt revealing his well toned muscles but did not bother to remove his pants and continued to position himself between her trembling legs, placing his palm over her mouth.

"You can thank Charlye for the painful pleasure you are about to experience." Mellissa could feel her pulse beating frantically all over her aching body. Without warning, Dalton plunged himself unmercifully into Mellissa, arching her back in shock and screaming into his palm. As he pounded into her Mellissa could feel the splitting pain of his thickness tearing her walls. She writhed and struggled under his forceful embrace as her sobs made her shoulders shake violently.

Dalton felt her tremble under his strong arms and smiled to himself; knowing that she was afraid and in pain made his blood stir even more. He put his hand behind the crook of her knee and jerked her leg upward, helping him churn even deeper into the shuddering girl.

Mellissa slowly grew weak and unable to struggle, she became numb. Her senses began to fade as she lost her consciousness, hoping that she would never wake up.


End file.
